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Hola to everyone. You may or may not have noticed that I have begun to use foreign tongues in this post.This whole going nationwide thing got me thinking, “What if some German boy with a belly full of schnitzel comes across this thing, and doesn’t speak English?” I gotta be prepared for that, otherwise that kid is probably going to go back to some website about making sausage or something. Diversity is key in the blogging business.

Well, enough of that. We’ll dive right into the meat and potatoes of this thing. More crazy band names today, and as usual, if you are offended by filthy language, avert your gaze. I pretty much stole all of these from the Onion, big whoop wanna fight about it?

I didn’t notice when I was writing these down, but it turned out pretty heavy on the back end of things. These people never cease to amaze me:

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Hello bloupies. Man, how about last week huh? Just making some small talk there. Well, I was compiling some blog related data over the weekend and was struck with a revelation. Jeremy C. of Whidbey Island texted in to the YCL headquarters requesting, nay, DEMANDING more Band Name segments. The interesting thing about that is, Whidbey Island just so happens to be in the state of Washington, which by my calculations would put the readership of The Blog at a national level. But why stop at Washington? We can take this thing around the country. Not only are we going to New Hampshire, J-Char, we’re going to South Carolina, and Oklahoma, and Arizona, and North Dakota, and New Mexico, we’re going to CALIFORNIA, AND TEXAS, AND NEW YORK, AND WE’RE GOING TO SOUTH DAKOTA, AND OREGON, AND WASHINGTON, AND MICHIGAN, AND THEN WE’RE GOING TO WASHINGTON D.C., TO TAKE BACK THE WHITE HOUSE!!!! YAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you’ve had your head in the dirt for the past few years that was Howard Dean. I watched this video probably 100 times this weekend, and if this doesn’t get you fired up, you are not American. Queen’s “We Will Rock You” playing in the background really adds a dimension of flavor that the speech alone lacks. This should be watched at an extremely loud volume.

Well, I’ll be back on Wednesday with some more band names. And don’t forget, kids, man with hand in pocket feels cocky all day.

YCL

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Man this health care business is really ruffling some feathers huh? I’ve never seen so many angry white people in all my days. But that is neither here nor there. My apologies to Dustin S. of Bloomington, who had sent in a request for today’s Friday Fun Facts Edition. Due to a unexpected tragedy that occured on U.S. Interstate 35 on Wednesday morning, the fun and games will have to be put on hold until next Friday.

This eulogy goes out to the turkey that I absolutely destroyed with the Altima two days ago.

This is a deeply sad occasion, but let us not mourn, but celebrate the life of this once majestic beast. Now, I never actually knew Reginald, or even took the time to find out if his name actually was Reginald, but after chatting with his friends and relatives I feel like we have been best buds for decades. I feel awkward delivering this eulogy, since I technically “killed” Reginald, but since I was also the last person to see him alive, I figured I should offer up some encouraging words.

Reginald and I were never close, but I feel that in a alternate universe things would have been different. Sure, I clipped him doing 75 down the freeway, effectively rendering him lifeless, but if he were still here I’m sure we would laugh for hours about it over a tall, cool, Miller Lite at Reginald’s old watering hole. If I close my eyes I can almost hear the jovial banter that would have taken place between us.

Reginald, you were a noble breed, and very stupid for running in front of a car, but noble nonetheless. The echoes of your incessant gobbling will forever reverberate throughout the flaxen expanse of the plains that you once inhabited. I know it was your dream to one day be pardoned by President Obama in a distinguished Thanksgiving ceremony on the celebrated lawns of our nation’s last vestige of freedom, the White House. Now that day will never come, as you are most likely being picked clean by a wild pack of vagrants as we speak. Thus is life, so many Americans cast their gaze upon that which is unattainable. As my main man Kurt Vonnegut would say, “So it goes.”

This song goes out to you Reginald. It says so many things that I cannot.

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Hi! Today we are going to explore the wacky world of odd, funny, and just plain innappropriate band names. But before we dive headfirst into the veritable genius of these musical masterminds, I had some random thoughts that I wanted to share:

-I keep getting all this stuff from the census people. I’m going to fill it out, but it keeps telling me that my response is required by law. My question is, if I don’t actually do it, wouldn’t that mean that I technically don’t exist and therefore could not get into trouble? Hmmmm, sounds to me like a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, marinated in befuddlement and peppered with flummoxation. Looks like I have the upper hand on this one. You know what I always say, in the valley of the skunks the man without a nose is king; well in the land of the census, a man without any legs is, apparently, still legally an entire man. Weird how that works out. But back to the pertinent matter, I luckily have a man on the inside, so John S. of Rochester, if you are reading this, could you possibly weigh in on this conundrum.

Alright, back to the main focus of today’s blizz-og. I was recently exploring interesting band names, and from the looks of it, every simple one has already been used up, for example Tool, Nirvana, Metallica, etc. People are being forced to use their imaginations now that all the one word names are taken, and boy are some of these people troubled. And I should issue a warning. Mom, if you are going to continue to read this I have to tell you that some of these bands use less than reputable language.

We’ll start off with these four gems:

-Admiral Poopy Pants and his Dancing Teeth

-Mr. Quintran and the Flossy Unicorn Puppet Show

-Beerbellied Scum from Central Bucks County. I’m willing to bet that they play nothing but country.

There were literally so many bands beginning with the word “anal” that it would require a whole other posting, so we’ll just keep plugging away.

-Big Bird’s Turds -Fuck Taco Bell -Half Man, Half Biscuit

-If Pigs Could Talk Would You Still Eat Them -Orange Juice After Toothpaste

-Poultry in Motion -Rainbow Butt Monkeys -Titty Bingo

Well that is about enough of that for now. Today’s blong (blog song) for the bloupies (blog groupies) is very fitting for today’s theme. Here are the Butthole Surfers, with “Pepper”. It’s got that 90’s slacker vibe that we’ve all come to know and love.

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The Scene: A 2003 Nissan Altima. Mid afternoon. The weather is nice and spring is in the air. A pasty white male, mid 20’s, who appears to have not gotten any sunlight since late August, is driving. We hear an instrumental version of “Yeah” by Usher being played on the car’s soundsystem.

Pasty white male: “Ugh, yeah, yo, yo, yo, just gonna drop a little freestyle from the tip of the dome here, ugh, yeah! Take that and rewind it back, YCL got the blog to make your booty go *CLAP* Take that and rewind it back, Jur-stin had a party made my liver go *CLAP*.” End scene.

Wow, sorry, I will never do that again. Unless somebody wants me to. No? Wait, I thought I saw a hand go up in the ba-, no nevermind, false alarm. But yes, Justin did in fact have a party. Nothing like hangin out with the old gradeschool buddies. The night was a raging success, even after getting of to a shaky start when I returned from the liquor store with a case of delicious Gluek Honey Bock. I was mocked and ridiculed by numerous people for my choice of libation. Jeez, I didn’t know I was going to be partying with Siskel and Ebert. But once samples were dispersed to the crowd, the true colors of this locally brewed hodgepodge of flavor were brought to the surface. Peanut gallery……………SILENCED!!!!

-Hot from the YCL Sports Desk: In local news, apparently Joe Mauer signed a contract. For like way too much money. Seriously, does anyone really need 180 million dollars? To play baseball? And before that he turned down 120 million dollars? Who on this planet could possibly have such an overexaggerated sense of self importance that 120 million dollars isn’t enough money for them? For 8 years of work. The average person in their lifetime will make about 1-2 million, if they are lucky. So to match what Joe Mauer would have made in 8 years, the average person would have to live 120 different lives. But that just wasn’t enough for Minnesota’s Golden Boy. But hey, I don’t really follow sports that closely so I could be wrong. Maybe catching and hitting a ball while wearing a cool little cap really is worth 23 million dollars a year.

-In other news, we have some very intriguing topics coming our way this week. On Wednesday we will be exploring strange band names, from the funny to the nonsensical. And we actually had a request for the Friday Fun Facts Edition this week, from Dustin S. of Bloomington, Minnesota. He wants to hear a compilation of George Bush quotes and actions that encapsulate the general suckiness of George Bush. While this may sound like beating a dead horse, I’m sure the horse won’t care, cause hey, it’s dead. And sometimes people like to watch stuff being beaten. And maybe some weird juices or intestines will pop out in the process of the beating. Stick around to find out!

Here’s a good blong. Alkaline Trio, “We’ve Had Enough”. It’s from a few years ago, but I still enjoy it.

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Well, St. Patrick’s day. How lovely. A day when people who aren’t even Irish partake in the drinking of copious amounts of social lubricant, and then proceed to flood the gutters with green vomit. I at least made it to a trash can last year. And it was the day after so it doesn’t even count. Plus I’m part Irish so I’m allowed to celebrate. In fact, I am actually a “closet ginger”. My facial hair comes in as some disgusting orange-ish reddish color if it gets too long, so I keep that under wraps. Don’t let the Zumhofe name fool you.

Well in honour of the day, I ate some spuds as a salute to those that perished in the Great Potato Blight of the mid 1800’s. Also, the Friday Fun Facts will have to come two days early as I explore this hooch soaked holiday, so before you go out and let all that Guinness and whiskey rumble down your gullet, read this. And then you’ll probably end up getting in a drunken bar brawl over it later you belligerent soak.

-The original color associated with St. Patrick was blue. Irish folklore actually states that if you wear too much green, especially children, fairies will steal you. I read that in National Geographic.

– St. Patrick wasn’t even born in Ireland.

-He was born in either Scotland or Wales, and at age 16 he was captured and sold into slavery in Ireland.

-Barack Obama’s ( or perhaps for today, O’Bama) great great grandfather came from Moneygall, County Offaly, Ireland.

-In Ireland in 1903, St. Patty’s day was declared a relgious holiday, which ironically meant that pubs were closed on that day, until it was made a national holiday in 1970.

-St. Patrick did not in fact chase all the snakes out of Ireland. Snakes are not and never have been native to Ireland. It’s starting to sound like this guy was just a big phony.

This blong comes to us courtesy of the IPR Library. Never heard of this band before, but hey I needed something Irish.

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Ah yes, the weather. I suppose I should include some obligatory chat about the weather here. It is nice out. It was also nice out yesterday. Anyways, I made it from Sunday, March 7th to Sunday, March 14 without eating any meat at all. I don’t know why, I just did. And coincidentally I also got sick for the first time in 2 years. Interesting correlation, which leads me to believe that meat is the very lifeblood that feeds my loins. But anyhoo, I decided to celebrate not eating meat by eating some meat. I purchased some fixins for some delicious chili. I like to think of myself as somewhat of a freestyle cooker, so I’ve never actually made chili the same way twice. It’s like jazz baby. So now I will share with you the recipe that took form in my kitchen yesterday. It defies all conventional logic that one would associate with normal production of chili, so I came to call this recipe “Hotti”.

Here is what I did. And just a side note, I don’t use measurements. I’m more of a dash, pinch, and dollop kind of guy.

-Well I began by cooking up some turkey and yellow peppers in some olive oil and worcestershire sauce. Hot sauce and cayenne pepper were also added.

-Once the turkey was deemed edible, a can each of tomato paste and tomato sauce were thrown in the mix. The wizardry continues, so keep reading!

-A small amount of water was poured in. Then a few shakes of chili powder, a few pinches of cumin, and some black pepper were strewn over the concoction.

-A can opener was employed to eradicate the contents of a can of chili beans and a can of diced tomatoes into the evolving brew.

-More hot sauce, and even some steak sauce were mixed in.

-I should probably mention this was all done in a large pot, and then transferred to my trusty crockpot, where it was allowed to stew in its own juices for a good six hours. It was then transferred to the refridgerator until now. This is a very important step, as coagulation and marination occur here.

While this obviously turned out to be very gratifying, I have yet to rival the classic batch that was created for the New Morning Windows Chili Cook-off in September of 2008. Although it took 4th place in a field of 4, it was the perfect storm of heat, meat, and culinary prowess. It has attained near-mythical status in my apartment, a Beacon of Perfection in the domain of comestibles.